I stood aloof just like Madagascar from Africa. The furtive glances from the paramedic said it all. Papa had popped his clogs. Beads of perspiration formed upon mama's brow and trickled down unnoticed to lose themselves betwixt the top of her voluptuous breasts. "I will become a laughing stock in the community," she sniveled. Suddenly, a foreboding solemnity enveloped the room. Although, the news had been a sting to my consciousness, but my anger wouldn't still let me feel for a stranger.
Papa was a philanderer in his life time. Like father Abraham, he had many sons and daughters. I had always envisaged that the day will come when strangers will walk through our gate for their statutory portion of inheritance. I detest polygamists. The reason why I had a fallout with papa since my coming of age. "What's the essence of his wealth if it's not generational like the Rockefellers, the Carnegies and the Morgans?" I soliloquized. The axiom by Roman Payne played on my mind— "May a man live well-enough and long-enough, to leave many joyful widows behind him." This is indeed a paragon of papa. He died at 72 and derived joy from philandering until his death. He has now left smiles on the faces of all his widows. I find this nauseating.
The d-day came when the lawyer was to read papa's erratic will. Papa's widows arrived in their oodles. Women in different shapes and sizes but one caught my eye. She was so tall as if she had stilts attached to her heels. Her jewels glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light. She looked familiar. "Isn't this Miss Adepoju, my English language teacher in SS 2?" I excogitated. She came along with 2 kids who frolicked the yard. My first position in English language in SS 2 now made sense to me. I knew I didn't deserve it. With my mouth agape in incredulity, all that came out was— "aaaaahh, Papaaaaa."
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